


A little bit of Happily Ever After.

by welovethebeekeeper (orphan_account)



Series: How Two Became Three [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff. Parentlock, M/M, Part 4 of a series.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/welovethebeekeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a series. In this fic; life resumes to it's normal pace for Sherlock, John and son, following the recent events in Sussex. Mycroft finds out what really was intended by the incident at Birling Gap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little bit of Happily Ever After.

“Dad?” Ben was at the kitchen table working on a sticker book, placing stickers of the planets into the correct order in the solar system. “Who’s my Mummy?” 

John had his back to Ben, working at the cooker on a pan of Irish stew for the evening meal. He had been waiting since he knew of Benedict’s conception for this question. Five years wait and he still had failed to come up with a good answer.  He turned slowly and smiled his ‘John Watson just-asked-a-question-by-a-Holmes-that-I-am-not-sure-how-to-answer smile’, and punted; 

“Well some children have a mummy and a daddy, some have two mummies, and some have two daddies. You have two daddies. Is that OK?” 

Benedict looked at him with a scowl worthy of his lineage, “of course it’s OK. I prefer to have two daddies. But Jake at nursery said everyone has a Mummy somewhere. Where is mine?” 

Front door closed, footsteps coming up the stairs, a flurry of coat, hair and drama; Sherlock was entering the kitchen. All smiles and kisses, cold breath from the London air, gloves being removed and scarf tugged off. John felt a rush of relief and a twinge of glee; payback time. 

“Your son wants to know where his Mummy is, Sherlock, care to answer that one?” John threw the ball into his husband’s court. 

“Oh, I’m your Mummy Ben, but as I am a man you call me Daddy. John have you moved that file I left on the table this afternoon, I need it for the case.” Sherlock dashed about hanging his coat on the back of the door and seeking the file folder. John stood, incredulous, at the ease in which Sherlock handled a difficult question, he looked at Ben to see what effect the answer had on the boy. 

Ben was sticking Uranus into the solar system, showing not one sign of confusion or trauma. “I knew I had to have a Mummy if Jake said so, he seemed very certain that we all had to have at least one.” 

“What?” Sherlock finally caught up with John’s distress, posting a concerned expression on his face. 

“Apparently nothing. All fine. The world goes on. Five years pondering on a question then it’s answered in a split second by Holmes candour and nonchalance.” John shook his head and gave a small laugh. Sherlock came up close and kissed him again, less of a ‘Hello’ kiss this time and more of an ‘I love you’ kiss. 

“Good. Solved. Onward and upward.” The detective took a seat next to his son and grimaced at the solar system displayed in the sticker book on the table. 

“Dad told me I had to teach you about the planets Daddy. I have it all ready for you.” Ben smiled up at his Father proudly. “We’ll start with the sun.” 

Sherlock looked encouraging at Benedict, and then gave a quick scowl to John. The doctor turned back to his stew with a delighted grin. 

****

It had been four month’s since the incident at Birling Cottage. There had been no further attacks on the Watson Holmes family, and life had settled down somewhat to its usual rhythm. Both Sherlock and Mycroft had been investigating the event, and the interrogation of the one remaining thug had reaped little progress. 

Mycroft had arrived at 221B one morning, placing himself in John’s armchair, brolly at hand and in full twirl. 

“To what do we owe this delightful intrusion?” Sherlock looked up from his laptop and across to his brother. 

“It would appear that I owe you, and the good doctor, an apology.”  

“John’s taken Benedict to nursery. But you already know that. You need to apologize to _me?_ Out with it then.” 

Mycroft pursed his lips, sighed and gave his brother eye contact. “The abduction of Benedict was not directed at you or John. It was intended to reverberate onto me. Take my beloved nephew, demand I change a particular government initiative, or else the boy is never seen again. A ransom demand, not in monetary form, but in a change of government policy.” 

Sherlock showed surprise. “You have an informant?” 

“Yes, someone that wants immunity for information. It is valuable to us, so we will grant his wish.”  

“Specifics of the abduction?” 

“Two local thugs hired to grab a child and deliver him to a warehouse in Crouch End. The order from a man giving his name as Professor Moriarty. No contact with this individual, just instructions to your cottage, a map of the area, and use of a rental van. I doubt we would have seen Ben again regardless of whether I acquiesced on the initiative. Only outcome was to intercept the van and kill the two abductors or one of them and try and obtain information from the other.  No information was to be had of course, so the second man was also terminated.” 

“You had the direct pleasure?” Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at Mycroft. 

“Of course. Insisted on it. I love Benedict.” 

“Professor Moriarty?” 

“There is an individual that surfaced after James Moriarty’s suicide. He was not a member of the web you dismantled in order to protect John. He was living in Australia when he appeared on our radar; he has gradually collected a following and is of interest to the Intelligence services. It was this individual that requested the abduction.” Mycroft shifted in the chair, crossing his long legs. “It does appear that the Professor is a relative of James Moriarty. An older brother. I fear we have not heard the last of him.” 

“Still Security Level 4 on my family?” Sherlock was concerned. 

“We have undercover agents in place close to this man. I expect more information within forty eight hours. I will inform you as soon as possible.” Silence reined for a few minutes, each man deep in thought. “I am sorry that Benedict was used to get to me. It was not a variant I had contemplated.” 

“We shall work the problem Mycroft, as we always do. No need for apologies. I am glad you are close to Ben; he is very fond of you. We live dangerous lives and we knew that when we chose to bring a child into our family. I have every faith that we will protect him. Please do not spend another moment feeling guilty about this matter. Our energy must be directed at this Professor Moriarty.” 

“Thank you.” Mycroft was sincere. He stood, buttoned his jacket and smiled. “Till later then, when I have more Intel.” He turned and exited the flat. 

Sherlock sighed. He already knew of Professor Moriarty, had known for weeks, and of the political leanings that the man held. It had been best for Mycroft to discover that it was he that was the target of the abduction of Ben, as Sherlock had not wanted to break that particular news to his brother. Sherlock was intent on discovering why this new Moriarty was not seeking revenge; or was he? Maybe the Moriartys had subtle ways of leading their enemies down a path that they least expected. Certainly Jim had done so with the final problem he threw at Sherlock; you die or your friends die. Hadn’t seen that one coming. Sherlock’s mind was crowded with the presence of Professor Moriarty. 

****

Early morning at the Baker Street flat, the door to Sherlock and John’s bedroom was thrown wide. A tall, thin boy of four and a half; dressed in check pyjamas, ginger curls dishevelled by sleep, stood in the doorway. He looked at his parent’s bed, at his Dad’s head on one of the pillows. 

“Why are you calling out Daddy’s name?” Ben asked John, causing the man to crane his head around to see his son. John was flushed and out of breath. 

“Oh, Hi. Err I was calling for Daddy because he’s…hiding from me.” John was panting. Under the duvet Sherlock had stilled, trying not to move, but needing to disengage his mouth from his husband’s erection without an audible ‘pop’. John’s hand, in Sherlock’s hair, held him in place. 

“Where’s he gone?” Ben looked perplexed. 

“Not…sure. Errm maybe in the bathroom?” John punted. “Why don’t you go and try and find him?” 

Ben, shook his head and pointed at the huge tenting of the duvet, and whispered; “ _he’s under the covers Dad_.”   

“Yes. I’m here!!” Sherlock’s head emerged from the duvet, hair standing up with static. “Hellooo! I was hiding under the duvet all this time.”  

Ben looked at John with pity; “you couldn’t find him in the bed? Silly Dad, it was the first place to look.” 

“Well he is very good at hiding!” John excused his lack of obvious detection skills. “Daddy once hid from me for over a year. Could not find him anywhere, thought he was dead, he is very, very good, at hiding.” 

“Oh, Lord, not this again! John, I am truly flattered by your praise for my efforts but it really is time to **_drop it_**.” Sherlock gritted his teeth over the final two words, slammed the ‘T’ at the end of the sentence and looked down at his husband, with a resigned expression. John started to giggle, which in turn made Sherlock laugh. The two men fell into deep laughter; born of distance from the event and the sure knowledge of healing between them. The very personification of that healing, Ben, observed his parents. 

“But the crickets, the crickets, the crickets, the crickets.” Ben bounced up and down demanding their attention. 

“What?” both men asked at once. 

“I dropped the crickets on the floor and now they are all over my room. They got free.” The boy referred to his live supply of lizard food. 

“Oh crap.” John knew that meant over a hundred live crickets swarming his son’s bedroom. 

“I’ll owe you one Doctor Watson.” Sherlock kissed John’s nose, then sprung out of bed, plush bottom on display as he pulled on his pyjama bottoms and a tee shirt. “Once more unto the breech men, we have been invaded by crickets, man the battlements.” He sprinted towards the stairs, grabbing Benedict in his arms as he did so, the boy giggling and excited.

“Bloody dragon lizards. Feeding them live insects. Knew it was a bad idea.” John muttered, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Now we’ll spend all morning catching crickets.” He began to pull on sweats. “Not even time to put the kettle on.” John inhaled; ahh, life with a four year old son. Not forgetting his genius, socially obtuse, overly emotional, arrogant and so-bloody-beautiful husband. John pinched himself, yes, he was one lucky sod.   

****

 


End file.
